


Is This the Real Life?

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Sexual Content, Threesome - M/M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest, which is acceptable in werewolf culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21900394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Stiles sees Peter and Derek together.Together - together.It's not what he thinks.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Peter Hale, Derek Hale/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 65
Kudos: 1221





	Is This the Real Life?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Green!  
> I hope you like my first attempt at Steterek, and please pardon my Derek!

_“Mamaaaaa, just killed a maaaaaan….”_

Stiles half-sung, half hummed under his breath as he cast about for the roll of tape to finish his gift wrapping. OK, he was aware Bohemian Rhapsody wasn’t traditional Christmas music, but he was Mariahed up to the back teeth, and if he heard _Baby its cold outside_ once more, he’d scream. Upon his return from his shopping trip, he’d decided that he was in dire need of some soulful Freddie, to match his distinctly melancholic mood.

He’d finally finished his Christmas shopping, and as always at this time of year, he couldn’t take a step without walking into hand-holding, love-struck couples. Normally, he didn’t mind it, would never begrudge someone their happiness, no matter how nauseatingly cute they were. His job as a vet kept him too busy for a social life (it had confused the hell out of all their friends when Stiles went to vet school and Scott joined the police academy), and generally he was content, but there was just something about the festive season that made him acutely aware of his single status.

It stung a little more because recently, he’d thought there was the chance of…something.

Right up until his mall trip, when his hopes had been dashed.

* * *

Derek Hale had been coming by the clinic recently, bringing in the pups he’d rescued from a dumpster, and at first it was completely reasonable for him to drop in every day or two, because they were babies and they needed a lot of care, and Stiles looked forward to those visits okay? Because a) Derek was primo eye candy, and b) the pups were cute as hell.

As the weeks went on and the pups grew stronger though, Derek’s visits didn’t stop. He came up with increasingly flimsy reasons for his visits – did Stiles think this was the best brand of collar? Could he check this little one’s toenail? - and it soon became clear that he was looking for excuses to hang around.

Stiles didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he’d been quietly pining after Derek for forever, but then there came a day when Derek had showed up without a single pup and carrying two coffee cups and a bag with muffins, and asked if Stiles had time for a break. He’d smiled, a bright dazzling thing that transformed his whole face, and it had almost killed Stiles to say no, but he was in the middle of prepping a bloodhound for surgery.

The next day, Derek had called first.

Stiles had enjoyed it, the tentative flirting. He’d smiled coyly and played along, aware that Derek was shy and not the best with words, but still hopeful he would gather his nerve and ask for more. Derek didn’t, though. Even after weeks of dropping by , they never quite moved on from coffee.

And then, Derek’s uncle Peter happened. If Stiles had pined after Derek for forever, he’d pined after his uncle for forever and a half. He had all of Derek’s chiselled good looks and drool-worthy physique, as well as an indefinable otherness, an animal magnetism, possibly the result of his Alpha status, that had Stiles intrigued.

So when Derek showed no signs of making any further moves and Peter turned up out of the blue and invited him out for dinner, Stiles accepted. It probably wasn’t going anywhere, he reasoned, but he might as well have fun. And have fun he did. Peter was quick witted and acerbic, the polar opposite of Derek’s quieter, more reserved nature, and Stiles had thoroughly enjoyed matching wits with him, the back and forth, the banter that slipped oh so easily into innuendo.

After dinner, Peter had taken his hand, and how pathetic was it that Stiles was so touch starved that even that simple contact had him shivering with want? Peter had taken note and grinned, sharp and hungry. “Greedy boy,” he’d commented, and kissed the back of Stiles’s hand softly.

And then Peter had driven him home and dropped him at his door without even attempting to kiss him, leaving Stiles confused and wanting.

Peter had taken him out twice more, and their dates (yes, Stiles is calling them dates) had been some of the best Stiles had been on. Last time though, Peter had been quiet and pensive, and when he’d dropped Stiles off, he’d rather cryptically said, “There are some things we need to discuss before we can go any further with this. I’ll be in touch.”

That was four days ago, and he hadn’t seen either of them since.

Until tonight.

He’d been working his way through the crowds, heading for the car park, when he’d seen two broad male backs in front of him, wearing what looked like matching holiday sweaters, arms draped casually around each other. He hadn’t recognised them at first, hadn’t thought anything of it except for a vague _good for them_ , the same thought he always had when he saw a same sex couple brave enough to touch in public. But then the taller man had turned and bussed a kiss over the top of the head of the other man, and it was _Derek_ , that was _Derek and his uncle_ , and Stiles had lurched to a stop as he watched Peter lean into the touch.

It looked – Stiles blinked, looked again, swallowed. It looked like they were together. Peter was whispering in Derek’s ear, and Derek was giving him that brilliant smile, and yes, Peter gave him a peck on his cheek.

Stiles had driven home, put on Freddie, and started wrapping on autopilot, trying not to dwell too hard on what he’d seen. It wasn’t quite working. All he felt was crushing disappointment, and an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Were they laughing at him this whole time? Toying with him? At the thought of it, he threw the roll of curling ribbon aside with far more violence than it deserved, muttering, ”Fucking Hales.”

It didn’t make him feel any better.

He slumped back onto the couch, head thrown back, eyes squeezing shut as he attempted to get a handle on his feelings. It’s not like anyone had promised him anything. It was a misunderstanding, that’s all. They probably just wanted to get on his good side so he’d provide free vet care for their newly opened animal shelter. Joke was on them – Stiles was going to offer anyway.

Freddie started crooning _Love of my Life_ , and Stiles shut the speaker off with a scowl. Where was _his_ love of _his_ life, huh? He was the vaguely attractive single vet in a small town. He played with puppies all day. He was _quirky_ , for god’s sake _._ According to the wisdom of Hallmark, he should have had potential partners lining up around the block. Yet here he was, alone. 

He was still sulking, eyes closed and an arm thrown over his face, when there was a knock at the door. “What?” he snapped, not in the mood for company.

“Stiles? Are you there?” came Peter’s voice.

Stiles sat up.

“We wanted to talk to you.” And that was Derek.

And nope, Stiles definitely wasn’t in the mood for this fuckery. “Not home,” he called back. A moment later the door opened and Peter stepped in, pocketing something. Derek followed behind carrying a gift box. Stiles frowned. “That was locked.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Oops, my lockpick slipped.”

Normally that would have raised a smile at least, but Stiles just crossed his arms over his chest and stared silently. It was Derek who stepped forward and Stiles noted bitterly that yes, they were wearing matching sweaters. Derek held out the box, and hesitantly said, “This is for you.”

Stiles ignored the box.“ You two. I saw you at the mall earlier. You looked...you were...are you together?” he demanded, suddenly desperate to get this over with.

Derek stiffened, and that was all the answer Stiles needed. “Yes, but it’s - it’s - no – wolves, it’s –“ Derek huffed in frustration, brows pulled down into a scowl. He turned to Peter, wordlessly pleading for help.

Peter stepped forward with a sigh, elbowing Derek gently in the side. “I told you this was a bad idea. I wanted to explain first, but you were all _no, let’s do it together, I know just what to say_ , and now, at the slightest sign of a setback, you lose the power of speech at the crucial moment. Honestly, love.” He rolled his eyes, but there was fondness there.

Stiles looked between them, noting the casual touches, the terms of endearment. “Why are you even here? What do you want?”

Derek’s mouth opened and closed, before he finally got out, “You, Stiles. We want you.”

Stiles blinked, confused. “But, you just said –“

Peter crouched down so he was at eye level, and took Stiles’s hand. “May I explain?”

His palm was warm, his gaze sincere, and as hurt as he was, Stiles needed to know what was going on, so he nodded silently. Peter sat next to him on one side, Derek on the other. Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the closeness in spite of his confusion, and he leaned back into Derek’s space and shamelessly took advantage of his body heat, absently wondering why it was that werewolves, that _Hales,_ smelled so good.

Peter continued to run a thumb over the back of his hand in a gentle caress as he started to speak. “Derek and I, we’re not a couple. Not as such. But we are.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back a snort. “Oh, that’s so much clearer now, thank you.”

Peter’s grip on his hand tightened. “Do you want an explanation or not?”

Stiles had always been too curious for his own good. “Fine, he muttered. “But it had better make sense.”

Derek wrapped one strong arm around Stiles’s middle and tugged, and somehow Stiles found himself perched sideways in Derek’s lap, facing Peter. “Better?” Peter murmured in a voice nothing short of adoring, and Stiles was about to answer when he felt Derek nod against him, and he realized that Peter wasn’t asking him. No, he was asking his nephew, who he obviously doted on.

“This – you know this is wrong, right?” Stiles couldn’t help himself, and he felt Derek tense beneath him at the question.

Peter though, just smiled softly. “Werewolf family dynamics are different, Stiles. We’re closer, in every way. And yes, sometimes we bond with family members more intimately than is considered acceptable, but for us, there’s nothing strange about it. In fact, werewolves are a lot more flexible in our romantic arrangements generally.” Stiles bit his lip, but nodded for Peter to continue. “I’d never pair with a child of my own for example, or a sibling. But a nephew? Doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.”

“Everything raises eyebrows in your family,” Stiles muttered.

Peter just gave him an amused look. “As I was saying, what Derek and I have, that closeness, it’s the wolf in us, choosing who they want to be with. It runs deeper than any ordinary romantic attraction. But we aren’t complete.”

Stiles had to take a minute, trying to make sense of what Peter was telling him. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was that werewolves had some weird aspects to their culture, so it kind of made sense. It didn’t even freak him out, not really. If claws and fangs weren’t enough to scare him off, some familial bonding sure wasn’t gonna do it. But if they were together-together, then why were they here, saying they wanted him? It was hard to think, with the heat of Derek’s body beneath him and Peter’s thumb still on his hand, stroke, stroke, stroking away.

“So where do I fit? Am I -“ he cringed internally at the term “ - am I your beard or something?”

He didn’t expect the bark of laughter that burst out of Peter, or for Derek to start shaking with mirth beneath him. He would have been offended, except now Peter was cupping his face in one hand, and he wasn’t laughing any more, and that fond look was directed at _him_.

“Stiles, sweetheart. We like you. We’d like to date you. Both of us.”

“Both of you?” Stiles repeats, as his brain scrambles to catch up.

“Both of us. I’ve admired you from afar for a long time, suspected you were it for us. It took Derek a while to catch up, but he came to me recently and told me he was certain he’d found our third. Imagine my delight when it _was_ you.”

“Third? What, this is _common?”_

He felt rather than saw Derek shrug behind him. “Like Peter said, flexible romantic arrangements. We both knew there was someone else out there for us.” His breath was hot on Stiles’s neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end. Given the deep sniffs taking place back there, Stiles was pretty sure Derek was trying to not-so-subtly scent him. He decided he’d allow it, for now.

Peter nodded in confirmation. “A triad’s not that unusual for us. It’s an extension of the pack instinct. And Derek and I both agree, having taken you out separately, that we’d like you to join us.”

Stiles had to take a deep breath and close his eyes.

Both of them. Scott would have a fit. He shouldn’t even be considering it.

But - _both of them._ Everything he’d hoped for, twice over?

He opened his eyes again, and looked at Peter, considering. “ It depends. As a one-time thing, or?”

“We were rather hoping for more.” Peter leaned in close and whispered, “Werewolves are _very_ _possessive.”_

The lust in his voice shouldn’t have made Stiles shudder like it did, but apparently Stiles’s body knew what it wanted, even if Stiles wasn’t completely there yet. His eyes lit on the gift box Derek had been carrying, and in an effort to gain some breathing room, he pointed. “What’s in there?”

Peter picked up the box and plopped it in his lap with a grin. “Just something so everyone will know you belong to us – assuming you agree of course,” he hastened to add.

“This better not be a damned collar,” he grumbled, earning him a chuckle from Derek. He undid the ribbon, and pulled the lid off to reveal…a holiday sweater. He lifted it out of the box and couldn’t help but smile. It matched. It had the same hideous plum pudding on the front, and was the same eye-searing green as the one Peter and Derek were wearing. Something about the sheer, unapologetic awfulness of it warmed him to the core, somehow reassuring him that Peter and Derek meant what they said. Anyone willing to wear something this terrible obviously wasn’t trying to impress him – there was no pretense; this was just who they were.

Peter was leaning forward in his chair, Derek’s hand was firm round his waist, and Stiles could almost feel them vibrating with tension as they awaited his answer. Finally, he spoke. “For the record, if we do this thing, I expect full veto rights on next year’s sweater, because damn. This is a new level of fugly.”

Peter shuffled closer. “Does that mean you’ll consider our offer?” His eyes were bright, hopeful, and Stiles had been toying with the idea of stringing them along with a list of demands, but he just couldn’t.

“The thing about being a vet,” he started, “is that I get it. I know how instincts are – I see it every day. When you say your wolves want me? I believe you. And honestly? If I had a wolf, he’d probably want you back .” He let his eyes trail down Peter’s body. “As it is? I don’t have a wolf, but I still want you both.”

He'd barely finished speaking when Peter surged forward and caught his mouth in a kiss, and Derek didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was scenting Stiles, burying his face in the curve of his neck while whispering, “You’ll really be ours?”

Stiles had the passing thought that a sensible adult would ask for some time to think about it, but just then Peter’s hands slid under his shirt and pressed against his belly, and the passing thought sailed right on by as he breathed out, _“Yes.”_

The hands on his skin tensed just for a second, and then Stiles was being lifted into Peter’s lap, turned so his legs were either side of Peter’s thighs, spread obscenely wide, and their foreheads were pressed together. “Tell me sweetheart, shall we be gentlemen, take you out to dinner and treat you right, then beg a kiss at the door?” Peter purred against his ear, and Stiles reveled in the teasing. It felt good, felt right.

Of course, the last thing Stiles wanted right now was to leave his apartment. Why the hell would he want to be out there, when he could be here, with two gorgeous wolves who wanted him? But he pretended to consider it just for a second, before giving Peter a sly smile and starting to sing quietly - that old familiar tune, the one he’d thought he was sick to death of earlier, but that turned out to be perfect.

It only took a second for his wolves to catch on and provide the lyrics, and Stiles was surprised at the want that sizzled in his belly when, in counterpoint to his lilting “I really can’t stay, ” Peter husked out, “Baby, it’s cold outside.”

Derek was quietly humming along in a pleasant baritone, and then his was the only voice, because Peter had pulled Stiles in for a lingering kiss, and every lyric to every song he’d ever known flew right out of Stiles’s head. Peter’s kiss was perfect, soft and gentle and full of promise, and Stiles was dizzy with it when they parted.

If this was a Hallmark movie, Stiles knew, they’d part after a single kiss and then take him to dinner or caroling or out to build a snowman, but he could feel the bulge in Peter’s jeans, could feel Derek’s gaze heavy on them, hot and intense, and Stiles wanted.

Fuck Hallmark.

Stiles leaned over and dragged Derek closer, kissing him, and it was different, intense and hungry in a way Peter hadn’t been, with more of the wolf peeking through. Stiles couldn’t help but tangle his fingers in Derek’s thick hair, tugging gently and grinning when he was rewarded with a soft growl. He pulled back just long enough to gasp out, “Bed?” and then he was being lifted off Peter’s lap, surrounded by them both, scented and kissed and touched, clothes being peeled off as they staggered across the room, none of them willing to stop running their hands over the body in front of them.

By the time they pinballed off the hallway wall and into the bedroom, Stiles was down to his jeans and socks, and Derek seemed to take great delight in peeling those off him and dropping him on the bed, before crawling next to him, his body gorgeous and naked and right there for Stiles to touch as he pleased. “Stiles,” he growled out lowly, ”wanted this, knew it was you,” before kissing him again, harder this time, and letting his hands wander over Stiles’s body.

“Now Derek, it’s polite to share.” Peter’s voice was close in his ear and Stiles turned his head to find him propped up on one elbow on his other side, eyes flashing red as he watched them intently. One hand crept forward and skated down Stiles’s flanks, a subtle claim.

“How – how do we make this work?” Stiles was breathless, nervous and excited all at once. His eyes skittered down Peter’s naked body to his erect cock and back again.

Peter followed his glance and chuckled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. All you need to do is lie there and let us take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to fuck me,” Stiles blurted out. “It’s too soon.”

Soft hands traced over skin. “No,” Peter soothed, “Nothing you don’t want. We just want to make you feel good. Perhaps…” a finger traced delicately down his jaw, “...leave a mark or two.”

“We just need to touch you. We’ll make it so good,” Derek promised, before leaning in and taking Stiles’s nipple in his mouth. His tongue was rough and hot and fantastic, sending a jolt to Stiles’s rapidly hardening dick, and Stiles couldn’t hold back a moan. Derek lifted his head long enough to give Stiles that brilliant grin, and then he lowered his head again and started suckling in earnest.

Stiles whined, and Peter smirked. “Derek’s terrible with his words, but he’s very good with his mouth.” Stiles could feel the huff of Derek’s laughter against his skin momentarily, and then Peter was lowering his mouth to Stiles’s other nipple, giving a delicate lick. “What do you say, darling boy? Let us be sweet to you?” he asked quietly, and Stiles dimly realised he was waiting for permission.

For the second time that night, Stiles whispered, _“Yes.”_

* * *

Stiles hadn’t known you could pass out from sheer sexual exhaustion without actually getting fucked, but look at that. You learn something every day.

True to their word, Peter and Derek had proceeded to spend literally hours getting to know his body, bringing him pleasure till he was half-mad with it. Stiles lost count of his orgasms after the third one, or maybe the fourth, and he might have dozed off in the middle of jacking Derek off, but nobody seemed to mind. He’d woken briefly to the gentle squeak and rock of the bed as someone fucked into someone else next to him, gentle whispers and affectionate words being exchanged, and he’d smiled to himself. It was just his wolves, having fun.

He didn’t even bother to roll over before he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

“You definitely owe me dinner,” Stiles yawned out later when he finally dragged himself back to consciousness, still collapsed bonelessly against Derek’s sleeping form, Peter curled up behind him. “Many dinners.”

“Anything,” Peter promised quietly, his fingers carding through Stiles’s bedhead. “You’re ours now, and we take care of what’s ours.”

Stiles hummed with satisfaction. “Took pretty good care of me already.”


End file.
